


Chill the Kool-Aid

by Darvyn



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Cults, Gen, Multimedia, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, gosh what am i getting myself into
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-01-26 21:12:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12566280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darvyn/pseuds/Darvyn
Summary: Jeremy Heere doesn't want to be invisible. Rich stopped being invisible because of hisawesomeLife Coach. Hopefully one of these coaches will take on the arduous task of life coaching Jeremy and leading him to a happier life.SQUIP Life CoachesAdvice on:      LifeRelationships& Moresquip.orgDr. S		Mr. Q		Prof. U		Dr. I		Mme. PFor new patient inquiries please email or call:new.you@squip.org1.800.566.5243





	1. Jeremy Heere is a Mess

**Author's Note:**

> Buckle up kids. This is gonna be a bumpy ride.
> 
> Not betaed. All mistakes are mine. Please let me know if there's anything horrendously awful.

Prologue

* * *

 

Fingers flutter anxiously, unsure of where to rest on the slightly sticky table. They settle in the young man’s lap, gripping each other so tight that the knuckles turn white from the strain. He exhales shakily, avoiding the gaze of the person across from him. 

The man seated across from him sits calm and collected, emanating an aura of pure confidence. He is comfortable wearing a three piece suit that looked like it cost more than Jeremy’s and Michael’s entire collection of video games combined. His black hair is coiffed perfectly with the aid of a very _masculine_ scented mousse. He takes a drink of the bitter and scalding black coffee, his Adam’s apple pronounced with each swallow, the movements are confident and fluid. After placing the mug back down, the older man steeples his fingers and quirks and eyebrow.

His eyes glance down at form on the clipboard in front of him, he nods.

“Jeremy Heere.” The man pauses, as if digesting the name. He frowns, “Jeremy, your name is two syllables too long. Can I call you Jer or Jay?”

Jeremy opens his mouth to respond, but the man shoos the opportunity to respond away with a flick of his wrist.

“I’ll stick with Jer, Jay is too…” The man’s eyes rove over Jeremy’s entirety, “...much for you. Right now, anyways.”

Jeremy shivers under the man’s scrutiny. He manages to rush a few words out, “What do you mean?”

The chuckle rumbles deep in the man’s chest, it’s rich and mature sounding. “Oh Jer, we’ll get there. Don’t worry.” He picks up the clipboard and nods contemplatively. “Mm-hm… How’s your home life?” 

Jeremy blinks in surprise, “Oh, uh. Um, my parents are… divorced. Um. I live with my dad.” 

Equipped with a Mont Blanc that Jeremy didn’t even notice him grab, the older man notes something on the paper. 

“Sex life?” His dark eyes are trained on Jeremy’s face, his expression neutral. 

“W-what!?” Jeremy splutters, his voice cracks pathetically. His face burns in embarrassment, quickly looking around the sparsely populated cafe. The barista is wearing a face of boredom as her eyes are trained on what was most likely her smartphone under the counter. 

He gulps, breaking out in a cold sweat, “Uh… um… non-existent. Obviously.” The last word is tacked on in a rush of air. 

The older man’s mouth quirks into a small smirk, followed by a small snort that managed to sound dignified. He murmurs softly, “ _Obviously_.” 

Jeremy’s face flushes in embarrassment once more, feeling humiliated. Here he is, in his Junior year of high school, and he hasn’t even kissed a girl yet. 

“So… uh…” Jeremy starts, but is promptly interrupted. 

“Do you have your interview fee?” The man places the clipboard down and takes a long drink from his mug of coffee as Jeremy fumbles with his backpack. 

The word ‘Boy F’ still unfortunately prominent on the light colored canvas. He takes out the envelope of cash, fingers shaking in anticipation. He slides it over to the man and quickly zips up his backpack. Jeremy gulps as the man starts counting the cash in the envelope, his dark, calculating eyes focused on the contents. Jeremy takes this moment to observe the man.

He’s well-built, for starters. His bone structure is very forgiving, with a well-sculpted jawline and broad shoulders, just the man’s posture alone gave onlookers a sense that he was someone powerful. Sitting across from Jeremy Heere, he looks very out of place. His hair is picture perfect too, not a single strand out of place and with a very deliberate 5 o'clock shadow. 

Before Jeremy can look for much longer, the man slips the envelope of money in the pocket lining the inside of his jacket. Jeremy quickly averts his gaze before the man could catch him staring.

The man stands up gracefully, not even making the chair scrape in an awkwardly loud manner. Jeremy tries to follow suit, but ends up bumping the tabletop with his gangly limbs, and making his chair scrape the ground in the awkwardly loud manner that the man managed to avoid. 

Jeremy winces as he tries to push the chair back in.

The man waits patiently and Jeremy flounders, his movements becoming more erratic as he tries to be just a little as suave as his companion. Jeremy sighs, resigned with the fact that he is all limbs and zero percent chill. He pulls on his backpack, face flushed once more in embarrassment. 

“Th-thank you for meeting with me, sir.” Eyes downcast, willing for the anxious feeling in his stomach to disappear.

A warm hand grasps his shoulder, patting him in an oddly comforting manner. The man’s other other hand is outstretched too, in anticipation for a handshake.

Jeremy quickly wipes his hand against his pant leg before taking the hand. His fingers are clammy in comparison to the older man’s. He gulps as he weakly shakes the warm hand that envelops his own easily.

“Please, call me Mr. Q. We’ll be in touch, Jer.”

Mr. Q is gone before Jeremy can say anything.

Jeremy’s legs buckle, his anxiety returning at full force. He quickly plops down in his seat, still warm from him sitting there minutes before. Jeremy pulls the business card that Rich gave him out of the pocket of his cardigan. His fingers shake as he reads it over once more.

What did he just get himself into?

* * *

Part I

_Few Days Prior_

Jeremy wears a hollow smile as his thumbs mash the buttons of his well-used controller. The joysticks are slightly sticky from years of eating junk food and simultaneously playing favorites such as _Apocalypse of the Damned_ and the older Grand Theft Autos. Michael always preferred older games, and Jeremy didn’t mind so much that it detracted from the fun of it.

But there was only so much bashing of pixelated zombies could do. Michael is too enraptured with the the chunky graphics of his character pushing zombies into Jeremy’s character’s swinging bat to notice that Jeremy is out of it. 

“Oh shit dude, watch out!”

Jeremy’s character collapses in a spurt of blood and a pixelated flesh-eating frenzy. Button mashing and zoning out failed to work for long. Trying to jump out of harm’s way was a futile task, as Michael grits his teeth in annoyance and concentration. Michael’s character quickly follows Jeremy’s in death as he is overwhelmed by zombies coming from opposite directions.

“Fuuuuuuck.” Michael collapses on the beanbag chair, his limbs splaying in different directions. “I am dead. Fuck this fucking level. Eughhhh.” His hands reach up to rub at his eyes, one hand lifting his glasses as he pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Jeremy nods along silently.

Michael squints at Jeremy as gravity replaces his glasses. “Dude, you okay?”

Jeremy shrugs staring at the controller hanging limply in his hands. His mouth opens and closes a couple times as he struggles to get the words out. He fiddles with the buttons in silence, trying to piece the words together.

Michael frowns but doesn’t say anything. Waiting patiently for him to speak up.

“Um… Christine and Jake are officially dating.” Jeremy’s voice is strained as he forces the words out.

Michael quirks an eyebrow incredulously, “Yeah? You know it’s not gonna last, right? And besides, I know that’s not the only thing bugging you, Jer.”

Jeremy’s fingers flutter fitfully, he can practically feel the business card burning a hole in his jean pocket. He trains his eyes on the flashing screen in front of him. He swallows the bitter lump in his throat as he squeakily turns in the beanbag chair to face Michael. He weakly stifles a wince as the bruise on his side throbs in protest.

Michael’s eyes flicker down at Jeremy’s ribs. His eyes widen almost comically. “Was it Rich again?” The words come out in a faux-calm tone, anger threatening to spill over.

Jeremy shrugs and goes, “Ehh… kinda?” He straightens and waves his hands frantically, “But not in the way you think!”

Michael’s face contorts in anger, “What do you mean ‘not in the way _I_ think’!?” He shakes his head, trying to dispel the anger, “I’m sorry, did he or did he not beat the shit out of you?”

“He _did_ , but not this time.” Jeremy sighs in exasperation, “Just… here me out, okay?”

The bespectacled best friend purses his lips and crosses his arms in exasperation, but shows no signs of interrupting.

“Okay, so…” Jeremy withdraws the business card from his pocket. It’s a metal business card with a gunmetal grey finish. Information is laser-etched onto the surface with a bright blue finish, and circuit board patterning is laser-cut through the card, giving it a very futuristic look. In a sans serif font the information reads easily:

~*~

 

~*~

Michael’s face says the ‘what the fuck is that’ that his mouth doesn’t voice.

“Uh…” Jeremy gnaws his bottom lip a little. “When was the first time you met Rich?”

Michael exhales sharply through his nose in a silent laugh, but when Jeremy’s face continues to hold the steady gaze, Michael frowns and answers honestly, “Um, this last year. When he started going to our school? Duh.”

Jeremy shoots up, “See, that’s what I thought too!” He paces in front of the TV feverently, “But apparently, Rich has been here since _Freshman year_!” Jeremy tugs at his hair, as if in an attempt to pull memories of Rich from his brain.

“What, no?” Michael stands and grabs Jeremy by the shoulders, a bit of a stretch considering the height difference, “Dude, he must be shitting with you. This has gotta be a new weird kinda bullying where he tries to mind-fuck you or something.” Michael gestures wildly in an attempt to lighten the mood.

The taller teen pulls away and dives for his backpack, his fingers shake as he unzips the front pocket housing his cellphone, he babbles quickly. “Yeah, no, see, I thought the same thing, dude. Same exact thing! But-but just look at this, dude.” Jeremy’s thumbs fly across his phone’s screen.

He holds up the bright screen to Michael’s face. Michael recoils and bit, but then leans back in to take a closer look at the screen. His eyes focus on the picture of a page from a yearbook, specifically the yearbook from when Jeremy and Michael were freshmen.

Sure enough, amongst photos of their classmates was a photo of Rich. He was wearing a polo shirt, had poorly gelled hair, one of those lame puka shell necklaces, and was wearing a retainer.

“What the fuck?” Came out in an awed whisper.

The phone is gone from his face and Jeremy resumes his pacing, “Right!?” He basically screams, his voice cracking slightly. “We never even _noticed_ him! How do you not even notice someone’s existence?”

“Very easily, apparently.” Michael laughs a little breathlessly. He shakes his head, “Okay, so what does this have to do anything?”

Jeremy stops his pacing and turns to Michael, “Michael… Michael, _I’m_ invisible _too_ . A-and I don’t _want_ to be.” He plops down onto the beanbag, “I want… to be seen. I’m a loser, a background character for people like _Jake_ and _Rich_ and _Chloe_ , ya’ know... The popular kids.” Jeremy begrudgingly grits out the last words.

Michael kneels in front of Jeremy’s beanbag, patting his best friend’s knee in comfort. “Dude, you’re not invisible. I mean, you got a good role in the school play, right? Do invisible people do that?”

Jeremy blinks back hot tears as his lower lip trembles, “I was invisible enough for Christine.” He pitifully swallows the lump in his throat, he chokes out am “She doesn’t even know I exist.” Two parallel lines of tears travel down his cheeks. The lump in his throat is back, threatening to choke him if he doesn’t cry. Jeremy takes a shuddering breath and averts his eyes.

He is promptly enveloped in a hug as Michael speaks comforting words, “Dude, it’s okay. Get it all out, man.” Jeremy clutches onto Michael’s red hoodie and sobs.

“I see you Jeremy. Hey.  You’re my favorite person too.”

Michael’s hand rubs soothing circles on Jeremy’s back, the warmth and familiarity a much needed comfort.

“You’re gonna be fine. You’re fine the way you are.”

Jeremy wails into Michael’s shoulder, his tears and snot leaving gross stains. He hiccups slightly as he tries to breathe.

“I love you, dude. You’re not invisible.”

Jeremy blubbers, hyperventilating slightly. “D-do y-you… m-mean it-t?” He mumbles into Michael’s dampened shoulder pitifully.

“Yes, I do Jeremy. You’re my favorite person, my best friend, my number two. Of course I love you man.”

Jeremy nods, his sobs quieting down. His breathing is slowly returning to normal as Michael continues to rub comforting circles on his back. In a quiet and raspy voice, Jeremy thanks Michael.

“No problem, dude. I’ve got you Jeremy.”

Jeremy grabs the discarded business card from the floor. He holds it up to the light of the TV, the main menu can be seen through the laser-cut circuitry. Michael frowns at the card as he reads it.

“A life coach?” His voice has a tinge of thinly masked incredulity.

Jeremy nods his head pitifully against Michael’s shoulder.

“Jeremy, you don’t need that shit.” Michael shakes his head, “You’d get the same kinda help from a forum online. Why bother dropping money on these people?”

He sits up quickly, swiping the drying tears from his face, “No, see. _Rich_ saw these guys, and he’s not invisible anymore!” Jeremy’s fingers shake as he grasps the metal business card between both of his hands. He’s looking at it like it holds the key to _everything_.

Jeremy speaks gently, like one wrong word and the card will disappear. “These guys _helped_ Rich. Everyone knows Rich’s name now, right?”

Michael frowns, “Yeah, but he’s a bully.”

“Just to me, haven’t you noticed that?” Jeremy takes a shuddering breath, “Rich explained it to me in the bathroom."

“In the _bathroom_?” Michael’s eyebrows raise comically.

The gangly teen rolls his eyes, “Yes I know, not necessarily the best place for a heart to heart--”

“ _Heart to heart_ !?” Michael splutters, “You’ve _got_ to be shitting me!”

Jeremy’s lips draw into a thin line, “Michael, shut up. I’m being serious!”

He rolls his eyes but allows Jeremy to continue.

“ _Anyways_ , Rich explained it to me in the bathroom today.” Jeremy pauses and purses his lips, daring Michael to say something. The red hoodie wearing teen holds up his hands in surrender.

“It was all a tactic to help him rise to the kind of popularity he wanted.”

“Oh so bullying you is okay because it was a ‘ _tactic_ ’?”

Jeremy groans and stands up, resuming up his pacing. “No, I’m not saying that that excuses his behavior. B-but Rich isn’t actually a bully. He’s actually really nice, but... nice doesn’t get you noticed.” Jeremy’s voice is one of complete empathy.

Michael is resting his elbows on his knees as gestures for Jeremy to continue.

“Rich got these kick-ass life coaches that helped him turn his life around. Helped him become noticed like he wanted to! He told me how he saw himself in me, and that I would probably be able to get into their program.”

“Program?”

“Yeah, these guys are actually really highly demanded life coaches. There’s like an application process and everything. They’ve helped _hundreds_ of people turn their life around!” Jeremy grabs his phone and pulls open the browser, “They’re super legit. Just take a look at their website.”

~*~

~*~

Michael looks at the site contemplatively, “Well they have a mobile site that doesn’t look like total shit, that’s for sure…” He frowns, “Can I see?”

“Yeah man, take a look.” Jeremy hands his phone to Michael.

He scrolls through the site and the various tabs. He taps on the ‘SQUIP Program Alumni’.

“Oh shit dude, Eminem got coached by them?” Jeremy comments as he reads the screen with Michael. “They’ve helped quite a few celebrities, huh…”

Michael still looks skeptical, “Yeah, but what are they doing helping high schoolers in fucking New Jersey of all places?”

Jeremy shrugs, “Rich told me that they have five coaches that travel the country, and sometimes even go overseas. I guess they’re just making their rounds in New Jersey right now…” Jeremy takes his phone back, “See, that’s why I have to decide _quick_. I don’t know if they’ll even accept my application!”

“M’kay, I mean it doesn’t hurt to fill out and submit an application, right?” Michael pats Jeremy on the back, “And if you don’t get in, you’ve still got me man.” He goes quiet as his brain whispers self-deprecating thoughts into his ear.

Jeremy is still looking through the site, marveling at the prestigiousness of the life coaches and what their ‘patients’ have accomplished. He recognizes the name of one of the creators of an older _Grand Theft Auto_ on the list of alumni.

“Hey dude, look. Jordan Steele was coached by them!” Jeremy pauses as he remembers, “Hey, didn’t he kill himself a couple years ago? Sucks, man. I loved the games he worked on.” He starts to shake his head wistfully when he notices how quiet Michael is being. “Michael? What’s up?”

Michael avoids Jeremy’s questioning gaze as he speaks, “You-you won’t forget about me if you get popular, right?”

Jeremy gapes like a fish, a strangled laugh comes out. “Y-you’re kidding right? Dude, _dude_ ! As if I could even _try_ to forget about you!” He scoffs, “You’re my _best_ friend dude, my _favorite_ person. I’d literally have to have amnesia or some shit to forget about you.”

The bespectacled teen give Jeremy a withering smile. Jeremy groans and punches Michael in the arm gently, “You’ve rooted yourself so deep in my life dude, that I couldn’t get rid of you even if I tried. Not that I’d try of course!” Jeremy frantically backpedals, “But don’t worry my dude, you and me are _stuck_ together.”

Michael grins and holds his fist up, “Like glue?”

Jeremy shrugs, his voice taking on a teasing tone, “More like that fucking horde of zombies on level nine, but glue is good too.”

They bump fists and laugh.

 


	2. Jeremy Heere Gets High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy enjoys some quality time with his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed. Some pot smoking mentions I guess. Lemme know if you want me to tag anything.

Part II

* * *

 

Jeremy snorts as Michael whacks a hooker with a crowbar. He shoves some Cheetos into his mouth and leans forward in his beanbag chair, grabbing an open bottle of Crystal Pepsi from the floor. He downs the clear sugary goodness and quickly chases it with a few more Cheetos.

“Aren’t you supposed to escort her, not kill her?” He speaks around the partially chewed Cheetos.

Michael sticks his tongue out childishly, but doesn’t turn away from the TV screen. “Aren’t you supposed to not speak with your mouth full?”

Jeremy kicks at Michael’s bean bag with one extended leg, dislodging him slightly. “Fuck off, you do the same exact shit. Get off your high-horse.”

“Fuck!” Michael accidentally smacks a woman walking with a kid instead of the hooker. The tell-tale star pops up in the bottom corner and he quickly maneuvers his character down an alleyway.

The taller teen watches on, continuing to shove Cheetos into his maw.

Michael shakes his head after dashing onto a street with a cop car lying in wait, “You know what? Fuck it!” He mashes the buttons on the controller quickly and spawns--

“ _A fucking TANK_!?” Jeremy shrieks in laughter, Cheeto crumbs flying everywhere, “Holy shit dude!”

“Fuck you, and fuck you. A-fucka-you. Fuck, fuck, fuck you. And a glorious fuck you to you too.” Michael blows up cop cars with each f-bomb. All the stars are present in the bottom corner, evidence that Michael’s character has gone too far.

Jeremy is wheezing in laughter as Michael directs his tank to run over an elderly woman, but she is running just _barely_ faster than the tank. With another ‘Fuck it’, Michael exits the tank to beat the elderly woman up with his beloved crowbar. Mid whack Michael’s character is riddled with bullets and the tell-tale ‘Wasted’ comes onto the screen.

There are tears in Jeremy’s eyes as he clutches his stomach. “That-that was _so_ fucking funny, god _damn_ you are amazing Michael!”

Michael nods in solemn acceptance, “I know. It is a burden I must bear.” His face splits into a grin as he holds the controller out to the giggling mess of limbs and teenaged hormones, “Your turn.”

Jeremy holds up his Cheeto dust covered fingers and makes a massive display of grabbing the controller, “Really? If you say so!”

Michael quickly snatches the controller away from the cheesy purgatory and gasps in horror, “You bastard! Go wash those foul toxic orange fingers _first_!”

The guilty party stands with a chuckle and makes his way into the darkened bathroom. There isn’t much light save for a small window peering out into the world above, the small room is filled with residual orange hue from the sunset. Jeremy uses his elbow to nudge the hot water handle into the ON position. Continuing to use his elbow he pumps some Softsoap onto one of his cheese-dusted hands. His phone buzzes and he groans in annoyance. It’s a continuous buzz, meaning that it’s a phone call.

“MICHAEL! IF YOU’RE CALLING ME I SWEAR TO GOD…” Jeremy shouts out of the bathroom.

“I’M NOT.”

“OKAY, CAN YOU HELP ME OUT THEN?”

Michael appears in the doorway, Jeremy is still focusing on sudsing the greasy bits of Cheeto dust off of his fingers, not wanting to smear his phone screen for when it was back in his own hands. Jeremy angles his hips away from the sink counter a bit.

“It’s in my front left pocket, please and thank you.”

Michael sighs in faux exasperation, but complies easily. As he withdraws the buzzing cellular device from Jeremy’s pants he squints at the bright screen in the darkness, “Uh… says it’s a… an unknown number.”

Jeremy rolls his eyes, “Well, at least it’s not my dad. I hate when he calls me to ask me to bring home more canned soup. Thanks Michael.”

The buzzing stops and Jeremy finishes up washing his hands. He wipes them off on the semi-decorative towels that Michael’s mother loved to hang up in every bathroom, and reaches for his phone.

“So, uh, whatever happened to the Squid Life Coach stuff?” Michael sounds nonchalant, but there is an undercurrent of hesitance as he hands Jeremy his phone back.

Reunited with his phone, Jeremy leans back again the counter and slides it back into his front left pocket, “Man, I dunno. It’s been a week. I figure if they wanted to take me on they would’ve gotten back to me already, right?” Jeremy’s voice trembles slightly, but he presses on, “You said it yourself, it didn’t hurt to apply and you know what? I think I’ll be fine, I have you afterall.”

Michael punches him in the shoulder gently, “Yeah man.”

They both chuckle gently.

The phone buzzes a couple times in quick succession. Jeremy frowns as he looks down at his pocket, Michael reaches forward without prompting and withdraws the phone. The screen reflects off of Michael’s glasses as he determines the source, the reflected light illuminating Jeremy’s face

“Voicemail.”

“Yeah, I figured. Probably a telemarketer. Wanna listen to what they offered me this time? Probably a free cruise again.”

Michael gnaws his bottom lip, but nods silently.

The taller teen removes the phone from the shorter one’s grasp easily. His freshly cleaned fingers tap into his Voicemail box easily. The ringing of the phone is the only sound in the bathroom as the two stand opposite of each other.  The sun is fully set, and the small space is bathed in a dim blue light from the outside. Jeremy taps in his PIN to access the voicemail.

_You have 3 new messages. To listen to your messages press--_

_*beep*_

_Playing your messages. First message._

“ _Hello Son, this is your dad. I would very much enjoy if you bought me more cans of extra spicy--”_

_*beep*_

_Message deleted._

_Next message._

_[Jeremy’s and Michael’s voices, kind of distant]_

“ _I’m gonna die._ ”

“ _You’re not gonna die_.”

“ _I’m gonna die._ ”

“ _You’re not gonna die_.”

“ _I died._ ”

“ _You died_.”

_*beep*_

_Message saved._

Michael snickers as Jeremy shoots him a “Shut the fuck up, _Mike_.” Michael winces, “Ooh, low blow man.”

_Next message._

The message that follows is a voice that neither Jeremy or Michael are familiar with. The voice has a deep timbre and is almost melodious. Very dark and powerful sounding, filled with a confidence that no one would question. Similar to Mr. Q’s, but there was something even more intense underlying it.

“ _Hello Mister Heere, I am Doctor Smith. I am the founder of SQUIP Life Coaches. Thank you for your interest in our coaching program. We have reviewed your application and the notes taken from your interview. You are exactly the kind of participant we are looking for. We would love to hear from you when you get a chance, please give my office a call, 1-800-566-5243, my extension is 2858. I look forward to hearing from you. Have a good-evening._ ”

Jeremy almost drops his phone in surprise. He can’t see Michael’s facial expression, but he is personally overjoyed. His fingers and limbs buzz in excitement as he clutches the phone to his chest. His breathing has quickened as the three words ‘oh my god’ tumble out of his mouth several times over.

“Congrats Jeremy.” Michael’s voice sounds strained. Like he is trying his hardest to sound happy, but Jeremy doesn’t notice.

“Oh my god, thanks, dude. Holy shit!” Jeremy grips the sides of his head with his hands and quickly strides out of the bathroom and back into the main room, “I can’t believe it! Holy shit! Oh my god!”

“Just don’t forget about wittle ol’ me when you’re famous and shit.” Michael pouts exaggeratedly, but there is a small tinge of sincerity in his words.

Jeremy releases his head and grabs Michael by his red clad shoulders, “My dearest friend, my player two, I would _never_ forget you.” He envelops the shorter teen in his arms, patting the hoodie covered back comfortingly. There is the slight aroma of weed underlying fresh detergent, it’s a very Michael scent.

Michael’s hands flutter awkwardly, not knowing where to rest. He ends up hugging Jeremy’s ribcage, gripping the navy blue cardigan slightly. Michael’s ear rests on Jeremy’s chest as he softly lists off soothing affirmations. Michael’s exhale stutters slightly as he enjoys the rumble of Jeremy’s voice through his chest and the steady beat of the heart in the ribcage beneath his ear a little _too_ much.

Michael untangles himself from Jeremy and pulls away. “Wanna get high one more time before these life coaches tell you to ‘say no to drugs’?” The casual tone is a bit forced but both of the teens let it slide.

“Yeah man, sounds good.” Jeremy plops down onto his bean bag, careful to not crush the bag of Cheetos with his backside. He watches Michael rummage through his beat up and sticker covered dresser, withdrawing a small bag from the back.

With the bag in hand, Michael turns to casually lob it across the room to Jeremy. Both of the boys watch the trajectory as the bag anti-climatically flops to the ground five feet away from Jeremy. Jeremy snorts, breaking the silence, Michael roars with an exaggerated rage, falling to his knees and shaking his fists at the lame popcorn ceiling of the basement.

“DAMN IT. I HAVE FAILED YOU JEREMY HEERE.” Michael flops onto the ground clutching his chest, “You must go on… without me. Please. You must... smoke my pot…. Four-twenty... blaze it.” Michael makes a croaking sound and lets his tongue loll out.

Jeremy stands and nods. “I shall take this burden, my dearest friend, with a heavy heart.” He picks up the bag and frowns in confusion at the contents. “Uh… my dearest dead friend, I have no fucking idea how to set this shit up.”

Michael cracks a single eye open, Jeremy gives him a sheepish smile. With a massive show of faux irritation, Michael collects himself from the floor. He sticks his tongue back out and swipes at it with the back of his hand.

“Uck, I libcked buh thloor on acthident.”

“Idiot.”

“I know.”

~*~

_Couple Hours Later_

“H-how fucking hilarious would it be if you called them back right _now_?”

“Snrk.” Jeremy convulses with laughter, “Shit man, don’t joke about that.”

“Mm…” Michael screws the lid back onto the bottle of Crystal Pepsi. “Don’t joke? But _you’re_ laughing dan, I mean mude… fuckin’ shit biscuits... _dude_.” The two snicker against each other amicably.

“They probably wouldn’t answer right now anyways…” Jeremy sighs, but not before shoving some cold bagel bites down his gullet. He chews pensively and wipes his greasy fingers off on his Legend of Zelda triforce printed boxers, “I dunno what to do man…”

A plume of smoke rises out of Michael’s mouth, he tilts his head back and exhales it up towards the ceiling. “I think… if you’re this worried man… you can like, talk to Rich, about these squid-people. _See if it’s worth it_ .” Michael sings the last sentence to unheard music, it sounded vaguely like _Buffalo Soldier_.

Jeremy nods, nibbling a stray nugget of pepperoni. “Hm… sounds like a… like an actually really good idea. Thanks Michael! I love you so much man.” Jeremy grins in Michael’s general direction.

“Huh?” Michael lolls his head towards Jeremy, “Didja say something?”

The gangly teen snorts, “You just missed my profession of love, no big deal.”

“Oh.” The gears inside Michael’s head grind to a halt, the two boys stare at each other in a marijuana addled stupor. After several moments of silence, Michael nods and puffs the remainder of his joint. He stubs it out on a small ceramic plate turned ashtray from the kitchen upstairs. “Fuck I’m tired, is today Friday?”

“Uhhh…” Jeremy prolongs the sound as he blearily taps at his phone’s screen. “Yeah dude, it’s Friday.”

Michael fist pumps in slow motion and hisses out an appreciative, “Yessss. No school.”

Jeremy nods along in agreement, “Yeah.” He continues to stare at the bright screen of his phone, watching the numbers change every sixty seconds. “It’s uhh…” He tries to focus on the numbers, “One thirty-two.”

“Nice.”

They sit in a comfortable silence. Jeremy gently tugs at his hair, the number reads one forty when the pot induced rust on the gears of his mind crumble slightly, the gears slowly grind into motion. Michael eyes are beginning to close when Jeremy mumbles to himself.

“Shit, we have school in like six hours.”

With a valiant effort, Jeremy taps his way into his phone’s alarm clock app and slides it into an “ON” position. Proud of himself, Jeremy splays his limbs in four different directions and lays his head back against the plush bean bag chair as he succumbs to the comforting lull of sleep.

* * *

_7:00 AM_

This is not the first time Jeremy has fallen asleep on his favorite bean bag in Michael’s basement bedroom. Nor is it the first time he was awoken with a start when his beloved cell-phone starts blaring the delightful “Reese’s Puffs Dare Remix”, the chant of “Reese’s puffs, Reese’s puffs, eat ‘em up” resigned for days where the regular alarm tone would be insufficient.

It _is_ the first time Jeremy wakes up alone.

In the rare instance that Michael wakes up before Jeremy, Michael is usually close by, either in the restroom or quickly grabbing breakfast before returning to the basement. But after quickly turning off his alarm, and giving the basement a cursory look, did Jeremy realize that Michael wasn’t there. The bathroom door is ajar, there are no sounds coming from the kitchen upstairs.

Jeremy frowns, but then shrugs nonchalantly, but there was still a tinge of concern and irritation in the back of his mind. He stands and stretches his limbs, just a few inches shy of being able to touch the gross popcorn ceiling. After unplugging his phone from its charger, Jeremy shuffles into the restroom to make himself a little more presentable.

A few minutes later Jeremy emerges with an empty bladder and minty fresh breath. His stomach grumbles that it too is empty. He gives the basement another once over, in case Michael came back while Jeremy was in the restroom, to no avail.

Jeremy carefully and quietly makes his way up the carpeted stairs, not wanting to disturb Michael’s parents or God forbid, Michael. The door is ajar, which Jeremy took as Michael being on the surface level somewhere. With another frown Jeremy mentally shakes himself and helps himself to the kitchen, hissing slightly at the cold tile in contact with his bare feet. The wrappers from the miscellaneous snacks of the previous evening were cleaned up, Jeremy duly remembers the mess they made. Michael must have cleaned up.

With cooking skills to rival Gordon Ramsey, Jeremy whips up a bowl of low-fat cow’s milk with sweetened wheat and marshmallow garnish. Or more accurately, a bowl of Lucky Charms. Jeremy is chewing his first bite when his eyes wander to the sliding glass door on the opposite side of the kitchen. He swallows the food quickly when he catches a glimpse of Michael’s red hoodie through the vertical blinds. Jeremy snatches up his bowl of breakfast and makes his way over to the sliding glass door, balancing the full bowl in one hand as he parts the blinds to gingerly tug the door open.

Michael is sitting on the step right in front of the sliding door with his headphones on, there’s a bowl of half-eaten cereal beside him. His hands are fiddling with the ties of his hoodie as his eyes stare straight out into the sparse backyard.

All previous irritation dissipates near instantaneously when Jeremy sees the far-off look upon Michael’s face. Jeremy shivers as he sits down on the step beside Michael, the fabric of his boxers being the only thing keeping his ass from touching the cold concrete. Michael starts at the sudden presence of Jeremy, he looks over and nods in acknowledgment.

“Mornin’.”

Jeremy doesn’t say it back, but mouths it instead. He can hear the music Michael is listening to pretty clearly, meaning that Michael wouldn’t have been able to hear him anyways. Jeremy resumes eating the cereal and Michael resumes staring at nothing in particular.

They sit there, some what comfortably for a few minutes. Michael withdraws his beat-up classic iPod from the pocket of his hoodie and clicks the buttons a few times, selecting a new song. Jeremy poorly suppresses a full-body shiver, his grey t-shirt and boxers not exactly the best attire for sitting outside in the cool autumn air. What vaguely sounds like Aqua’s “Best Friends” seems to be playing through Michael’s headphones as he pulls them down and around his neck.

Michael turns to look at Jeremy, who is trying his best to not look cold, despite the gooseflesh on his arms and legs. Michael quirks an eyebrow and smirks deviously, “Cold?”

“Psh, _no_.” Jeremy clutches his fingers together to keep them from shaking noticeably. He frowns at the gap in between the two of them, he was subconsciously closing the gap, leaning into the warmth of Michael. “B-but we’re done with breakfast now, we should head back inside and get dressed for school.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll drive us to school. We’ve got time.” Michael leans back and grins at Jeremy, “Let’s enjoy this nice, fresh, _cool_ air!”

Jeremy stands and shoves his right foot and it's cold toes into Michael’s face, “Bastard! I’m freezing my ass off!”

Michael cackles as he pushes Jeremy’s foot away. Jeremy picks up the bowl and pushes past the vertical blinds and back into the warmth of the kitchen.

“Your ass looks attached to me!” Michael’s voice calls after him.

“You’re a pain in my ass.” Jeremy grumbles to himself as he rinses his bowl.

“Just doing my duties as your best friend!” Michael leans against the counter beside the kitchen sink. He slides his bowl of cereal towards Jeremy and gives him a coy smile.

With a sigh Jeremy takes Michael’s bowl and washes it as well. “Happy? You pain in the ass.”

Michael grins as Jeremy rinses his hands. His eyes linger on Jeremy’s face, the dusting of freckles under his eyes, the few acne scars on his chin. Michael mentally shakes himself and averts his eyes to stare out the window above the kitchen sink.

The tinny sound of “ _he’s my best, my best, my best, my best friend_ ” coming from Michael’s headphones is the only thing filling the kitchen, except for the faint blurb of water going down the drain. Jeremy makes a face in recognition of the song.

“ _Aqua_ ? _Really_? God Michael, your ability to listen to anything continues to astound me.”

Jeremy turns to lean against the counter, quirking his eyebrow in challenge. Michael shrugs in mute acceptance and pushes past his gangly best friend, he makes his way down to the basement. Jeremy snickers and follows close behind.

The Aqua song comes to an end and Michael quickly withdraws his iPod to stop it from playing anything else.

“C’mon Jer, we can probably get a couple rounds of Smash in before we have to leave.”

The taller teen falls onto his designated bean bag chair with a grin. “Bring it.”

 

~*~

 

Michael brings them to school, but not before wiping the floor with Link. Jeremy erupted with several expletives about Michael and Roy, grumbling if ‘ _we were playing Brawl instead you’d be in trouble_ ’ as Michael cackled on their way to school.

“God, you are just terrible at Smash.” Michael snickers as Jeremy shoulders him.

“Oh screw you Michael. You know damn well I’ll kick your ass next time.”

“Do I?”

They walk side by side as they navigate the dangerous halls. Exchanging their woes about their upcoming history test. Michael bids Jeremy a farewell in the form of a earnest pat on the back, he pulls his headphones on and walks down a crowded hall towards the school gymnasium.

Jeremy sighs as he withdraws his class copy of Huxley’s _Brave New World_ from the confines of his scrap paper filled locker. He slams it closed quickly in an effort to keep anything from falling out.

“Wassup tall-ass.”

Jeremy freezes. Almost as if it were a scene in a movie, Rich is leaning against the wall of lockers casually, his graphic muscle tee fully visible now that Jeremy closed his locker door. He is giving off an air of his usual confidence, his hair and the red streak were styled perfectly, but there was something off with the expression on his face. Rich’s eyes had a far-off, almost paranoid, look, while his mouth is drawn into a small frown. The brown orbs contemplate the hallway before he opens his mouth once more.

“Jeremy…”

Jeremy uses all his willpower to not flinch and run away screaming. He instead clutches the straps of his backpack protectively, in the event Rich wants to deface it again, and angles his body away from the short-tempered and statured classmate.

“H-hey Rich.” Jeremy chuckles awkwardly, his brain is quickly trying to figure out the fastest way out of the situation, he doesn’t feel the need to reacquaint himself with Rich’s fists.

Rich pauses and withdraws his phone from back pocket, he nods upon reading the screen, his face makes a 180 and breaks out into a grin. He laughs loudly as he reaches over and grabs Jeremy’s shoulder, he pulls him into an awkward bear hug, because of the height difference.

“I knew you could do it Jer! Welcome to the SQUIP life coach family, oh man this is gonna be so much fun!”

The taller teen stiffens and tries to pull out of the hug immediately. Despite his height, Rich is surprisingly strong. Whereas Jeremy is as gangly as he is weak. Jeremy pales as some of the students in the hallway give the pair sideways glances, suppressing snickers. He almost wants to call out for help. Almost.

“Fun?” Jeremy stops resisting as he realizes what Rich just said. “Y-yeah!” Rich releases him and Jeremy withdraws himself quickly, he holds his hands up defensively, “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

Rich punches him in the shoulder, not maliciously though. In a friendly way, akin to the way Michael and Jeremy punch each other. It is unnerving having Rich behave so familiarly with him.

“Yeah, bro! It’s so chill that you were accepted. Have you responded to Doctor Smith yet?” The casual tone sounds forced.

“Oh, yeah, no. I haven’t done that yet. I was gonna do it after school today.”

“Nice, sounds good Jer. I’ve gotta get to class, but I’ll see you later bro!”

Jeremy receives another “friendly” punch to his shoulder, and Rich disappears down the hall. Jeremy’s heart is pounding as he slumps against the wall, he steadies himself with his punched arm. His voice is laced with bewilderment as he murmurs to no one in particular.

“What the hell?”

The bell signifying the beginning of class rings, and Jeremy is officially tardy.

“Shit!” The shout and the maddening squeak of Jeremy’s shoes are the only sounds in the hallway as he dashes to his English classroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, slowly building the story, god I am rusty. It's tough writing fics haha. Lemme know what you think, I appreciate feedback of any kind. Thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this idea for about a week at this point, and started typing it up a few days ago, and I'm actually feeling motivated to write! I have half of the next chapter typed up already, I'll upload it within a week or so. Feedback would be appreciated.
> 
> Thanks!


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